


The Past Is a Foreign Country

by lucymonster



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo Lives, Established Poe Dameron/Finn, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Team Bonding, ship screentime is around 50/50
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23851978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: With some help from an unexpected source, Finn sets out to learn the truth about his family.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 19
Kudos: 46
Collections: May the 4th Be With You Star Wars Fanworks Exchange 2020





	The Past Is a Foreign Country

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frozensea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozensea/gifts).



According to official maps, the place is called Baros Minor Outpost. Lando calls it New Cloud City. He’s hosting them out of pocket, so no one says anything about it. Especially given what they’ve seen of his pocket depth.

‘It's a Full Coruscant again,’ says Poe, referring to the rich buffet breakfast laid out on the guest hall’s gleaming trestle tables. ‘I’m not sure how much more of this my stomach can take.’

Finn scrapes a mound of cheesy scrambled eggs aside to make room on his plate for a buttery Ryshcate pastry. ‘Your stomach will have to cope. It’s bad etiquette to be picky about food when someone else is serving.’

‘The hell would you know about etiquette?’

‘Threepio’s been coaching me.’ Personally, Finn’s never eaten as well in his life as he has since they landed on this decommissioned gas mining station that Lando is midway through converting into a luxury resort. The First Order’s defeat on Exegol allowed him to liquidate assets of dubious origin that had been languishing in hidden caches during the war. Guy’s rolling in cash. Finn takes a second Ryshcate for good measure. If he doesn’t finish it at breakfast, he can stash it in his satchel for later and Lando’s coffers will be none the lighter.

They fill their plates – Poe rallies his gastronomic courage for a double helping of bacon-topped breakfast potatoes – and scan the hall for an empty trestle. At the far end, Lando is busy poring over a datapad with Jannah. They’ve been off together like that a lot. Just the two of them, heads bowed, faces close. They’re either long lost family or madly in love and Finn’s damned if he can tell which it is.

There’s a lot of that going around lately. At the other end of the hall, Rey has saved them seats and is waving for them to join her. Finn can hardly imagine what Threepio's etiquette protocols would say about ignoring the invitation. Not that he'd ever be tempted to for Rey's sake; it's her companion he's iffy on.

‘Morning, guys.’ Falling on the grenade with as much grace as he can manage, Finn takes the seat closer to Ben so Poe can sit with Rey. ‘Great spread this morning, isn’t it?’

The architect of countless horrific First Order massacres picks a raisin out of his porridge. ‘That’s Lando for you,’ he says, in the awkward would-be casual voice that seems to make up the bulk of his dialogue these days. Finn remembers all too well how he used to talk, and so knows he’s at least _capable_ of speech that doesn’t sound like he’s reading off a hostage script while angry pirates hold a blaster to his head. ‘He loves entertaining.’

‘Don’t waste that.’ Rey takes the spoon with the unwanted raisin from Ben’s hand and pops it in her mouth. Then she digs it back into his bowl, looking for more. Are they a thing or not a thing? Finn still hasn’t figured it out, but he notes on his mental for-and-against scoresheet that Rey has no qualms about sharing saliva.

Poe notices too. Finn can tell by the way his jaw tightens. ‘Lando and Jannah are still at it,’ he says, looking at Rey then Finn and carefully skipping Ben in the middle. ‘Theory is she’s his long lost daughter, right? Why don’t they just run a gene test?’

‘They have run a gene test,’ says Rey.

‘And? What were the results?’

‘Jannah didn’t say. I didn’t think it was my place to ask.’

‘Well, I’ll ask.’ 

Poe makes to rise. Finn’s not sure why he stops him – it’s not a conscious choice, and it’s nothing to do with Threepio’s etiquette mandates. Poe’s known where he came from since the day he was born. He has no idea how fraught a topic it can be. ‘Don’t,’ he says. ‘If she hasn’t told us then she doesn’t want to talk about it. Let her take the lead. She’ll share when she’s ready.’

Shrugging, Poe settles back down. He doesn’t argue, and Finn’s briefly grateful that he seems to have spotted the minefield he’s at risk of blundering into. But then: ‘You ever think about tracking down your family, Finn? If Jannah can do it, I’m sure you could too.’

There are times Finn admires Poe’s frankness so much it hurts. He’s a straight shooter, fearless in his opinions, the kind of guy who can make every word from his mouth sound like truth writ large. Years of obedience training have left their imprint on Finn’s social skills. It’s not often an advantage. But there are other times, like now, when he can’t help thinking Poe could stand to shove a few more of those potatoes in his gob.

‘I’ve thought about it,’ he says, wishing he didn’t have to. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start. Jannah has leads to follow – I don’t. But who cares? I’ve got my people right here.’

Three-quarters of the breakfast table take the cue to share a meaningful look, hands clasped in affectionate gratitude for their newfound family. The fourth member eats his newly raisin-free porridge in silence. But Finn can’t shake the feeling of dark eyes watching him after the heartfelt moment has passed.

* * *

One useful consequence of the short-lived battle on Exegol is that some of Ben’s First Order security codes still work. No one had time to wipe them in the chaos.

Most of his old assets are long gone: they’ve been blown out of orbit by freedom fighters or commandeered by lawless opportunists. Some have come under direct Resistance control, and Ben has been earning his keep by helping intelligence analysts get past the encryption. A few have fallen into the hands of surviving First Order loyalists. Ben’s careful about how he accesses those. According to official records, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren is dead, and there’s enormous strategic value for the Resistance in having him on side without their enemies knowing. A flurry of system breaches all stamped with his personal codes might raise suspicion.

So he can only hope no one’s paying close attention to the access logs for Arkanis Academy’s central database. According to the administrative index Ben just downloaded, the archive on Arkanis is where stormtrooper cadet intake records are stored – on a local data grid, unconnected to holonet and inaccessible from remote dataports. He’s made as much progress as he can from behind a computer screen, and his bleary eyes and restless legs are both equally ready to launch stage two of the investigation.

He needs to talk to Rey first. He’s not looking forward to it. So when he hears the knock outside his door – it’s her; it’s always her – the squirm in his stomach is less pleasant than usual.

‘Come in.’

She’s flushed and damp-haired, cheeks rosy in the imitation natural light that floods the spacious guest suite. She could have been training, but Ben suspects she’s come from the spa. Rey loves the artificial hot springs on the station’s bottom levels, deep and steamy and faintly sulphuric with mineral byproducts repurposed from the old mining operation. She’d soak all day if her schedule allowed, glorying in the abundance of a substance so desperately scarce on Jakku.

Looking closer, her pruned fingers confirm his guess. He imagines her stretched out naked on the artfully rough-hewn rocks, pink all over, hair loose from her usual practical bunches. Droplets of condensed steam run down her cleavage and bead on the tips of her pert nipples. Dark curls cover the tender skin between her thighs, pressed tight together like a chaste artist’s model but ready to open wide and welcoming when he – 

‘What are you doing?’

Ben swallows. Hormones are no excuse this side of thirty, but being near Rey makes him feel about sixteen years old again. She’s looking at his computer screen and the half-decrypted index still open on it. Hoping his voice won’t crack to match his midlife adolescence, he averts his eyes and tells her: ‘I’m looking for information about Finn in the First Order’s records. I've pinpointed the location of his cadet intake file, but I need to get to the Arkanis archive to actually read it.’

She might not want to let him go, and that’s part of why Ben hasn’t been looking forward to telling her. Technically speaking, he’s not meant to leave New Cloud City unsupervised. The place isn’t much of a prison block, with its king-sized guest suites and lavish buffet breakfasts, but Ben’s not stupid enough to mistake Lando’s hostly courtesy for an unconditional pardon.

Rey doesn’t mention that issue, though. All she says is: ‘Have you told Finn?’

‘I don’t have anything to tell yet. Once I’ve seen the archive–’

‘You’ll come back, tell Finn who his parents are and expect him to thank you for it?’

The barb finds its mark, and in the rush of sad deflation that follows, Ben learns what it feels like to be a balloon. ‘I–’

‘It doesn’t work that way, Ben. Finn deserves to be involved. Tell him what you’ve found, and he can decide for himself if he wants to pursue it.’ Her face relaxes into a smile, and Ben’s insides reinflate – not much, but enough to recover some rudimentary shape. ‘Maybe we can all find out together. Your first mission as part of the team. Wouldn’t that be more fun?’

 _Fun_ is not the objective. The thought of presenting his half-baked research to Finn makes him deeply uneasy. But when in doubt, Ben’s learned that doing as Rey says is usually the better option regardless of his personal comfort. ‘Will you help me talk to him?’

Rey’s smile turns into the beam. ‘You could have just asked in the first place, you know.’

* * *

Finn doesn’t pause to weigh it up before agreeing to the mission. If he thinks too much, he’ll never be able to decide.

He and Poe get the spa to themselves in the short while before they’re due to depart for Arkanis. Construction is still underway: the planned indoor junglescape is a mess of empty planter boxes and hex wire, but the water’s hot and mineral-soft. A bubble jet tickles Finn’s toes as he kicks back in the shallow pool. Ripples offset the shape of his legs, making them crooked beneath the surface. Poe stretches on a nearby ledge to cool down. Well formed muscles, dewy skin, that trademark easygoing grin. Finn should be feasting his eyes.

He can’t focus. Not even on that.

‘All I’m saying is we should be careful, okay?’ says Poe. ‘Last time he played the genealogist, we learned more than we ever wanted to know about Palpatine’s family life. If it turns out you’re a … a Dooku or a Tarkin or something, and he uses that against you…’

‘Have you ever seen a picture of Moff Tarkin?’ Finn has. So-called Imperial war heroes were a big feature of his childhood education. ‘We’re not exactly an uncanny resemblance to each other.’

‘Could be an in-law.’

‘Anyway, if Palpatine taught us one thing, it’s that heritage isn’t the be-all and end-all. Just look at Rey. She’s descended from the most evil guy in history and she turned out fine. If she can choose her own path, why can’t I?’

Poe frowns. ‘I’m not worried you’ll suddenly turn evil,’ he says. ‘I’m worried you’ll get hurt.’ He sits up on the ledge, dangling one foot in the water, bending the other to rest his chin on his knee. ‘And I don’t trust Ren’s motives.’

Finn doesn’t point out the slip. It’s so easy to get wrong: one consonant makes all the difference between alliance and mortal enmity. ‘If you’re afraid he’s planning to–’

‘I’m not. All this dark side, light side stuff goes over my head, okay? If Rey says he’s quit being a bad guy, I trust her. But it’s weird that he’s so interested all of a sudden. When was the last time he talked to either of us on purpose? Every time we’re all together, he disappears to go sulk in his room.’

‘You’d rather he came to the spa with us?’

‘No, I would not rather he came to the spa with us. I’m saying he has an ulterior motive. Rey cares about you, and he knows that. Doing you a big, showy favour is a great way to win points with her.’

Finn watches a plume of steam rise from the water. ‘So,’ he says, when the silence is at risk of dragging on too long. ‘You’re updating your bet, then?’

‘What?’

‘Your bet. Last time, you bet ten credits that – I quote – “there’s no way in hell they’re a thing”. What’s your new theory? They’re not a thing yet but he’s using me as a human bouquet to woo her?’

Poe’s eyes narrow. ‘Fifteen credits say it’ll never be more than a one-sided crush. And don’t change the subject.’

‘There’s nothing to change. Poe, most people in the galaxy aren’t like you and Rey. Not everyone acts out of pure heroic selflessness all the time. If he can give me what I want, I don’t care who he’s trying to impress by doing it.’

‘And this _is_ what you want. To find out where you’re from.’

‘It is.’

‘Because when I asked, you told me you didn’t care.’

‘That was when I thought there was no hope of success.’ There’s a look on Poe’s face that says he wants to keep arguing, and Finn knows it’s coming from a place of concern. Poe doesn’t understand. With a family like his, he can’t. But he wants to help.

Finn tugs Poe’s leg to urge him down off the ledge. Their bodies press together in the roiling water, and Finn can still hardly believe he gets to do this. Intimacy was never a big part of stormtrooper life. He’s still so bad at it: too slow, too hesitant, too clumsy with his hands and mouth. As their lips touch, Finn feels a familiar sense of being out of his depth. It’s like the spa is much deeper than it actually is, and he’s kicking to keep himself above water, toes searching in vain for a pool floor they’ll never brush. 

But Poe meets him where he is. Like a life jacket, he winds his arms around Finn’s body and holds him afloat. It feels good. Better than good. Forget treading water – Poe’s kisses are worth drowning for.

‘Poe,’ he says when they part for breath, ‘there’s something I need you to know.’

‘Mm?’

‘When you lose our bet, I’m going to spend that fifteen credits on wine. Not cask wine, the good stuff. And I won’t share.’

Poe aims for the eyes when he splashes him. Finn blinks away hot spa water and laughs.

* * *

It’s going to go wrong. How can it not? The plan’s messy, weighed down by all the baggage of four clashing personalities. Finn, Rey and Poe are used to drastic measures and desperate odds with no patience for subtler strategies. Ben has never worked with the three of them before and has no idea what to expect. All any of them know about current-day Arkanis is that it’s one of the First Order’s last strongholds, staffed by regime loyalists and an awkward number of civilian sympathisers who enjoyed privileges and prestige under the old administration.

There’s a vague idea their mission could have broader intelligence value. The resurrected New Republic has scant resources to chase down every last enemy cell on its own. Canvassing the situation on the ground might help the cleanup effort later, and that’s what they’re still telling each other as they board the _Falcon_ together.

But it’s not really what anyone cares about. They’ve decided to go, so they go.

Of course it’s going to go wrong.

* * *

The streets around the academy feel like the inside of a temporal warp field. Slogan posters preach justice through obedience and safety through submission, all inked in red and stamped with the many-rayed insignia of the First Order. One poster features a stylised portrait of Ben’s own face. _Remember His Sacrifice,_ it says.

Flashes of Exegol pass through Ben’s mind. _Sacrifice._ Funny. It didn’t feel like sacrifice at the time, when he was holding Rey in his arms and feeling the warmth return to her body. It didn’t feel like sacrifice when she kissed him, joyful, grateful, and for a few dizzy moments he thought his heart’s dearest wish had come true. There are times now that feel more sacrificial than Exegol ever did. But they’re probably not what the artist was thinking of. 

For one thing, Ben’s not dead. And if he were, that wouldn't be the cause he died for.

‘Troopers up ahead,’ says Poe, throwing out an arm to halt the others. 

‘It’s too early in the mission for a firefight,’ says Finn. ‘Let’s wait for them to pass.’

‘They’re not moving.’

‘It’s been three seconds.’

‘Yeah, and if they’re on guard duty, it could be three hours. I say we blast ‘em and steal their armour.’

‘If we blast them,’ says Finn, ‘their armour will be useless as a disguise. You think no one’s going to notice the ugly great scorch marks?’

This would have been so much easier alone.

Ducking Poe’s outstretched hand, Ben steps into view and waits for the stormtroopers to notice him. Not exactly the army’s finest, these surviving dregs. After a delay that would have earned them an express ticket to reconditioning back in the day, they catch sight of him and whirl around with blasters raised. ‘Freeze!’

‘No, you freeze.’ A wave of his hand does it. He senses their astonishment when they see his face, followed by placid haze as the mind trick takes hold. ‘You will remove your helmets and kneel.’ They comply. Perfect execution posture. Ben steps aside to give Finn and Poe a clear shot – and finds Rey staring at him with an expression that has edged past disapproval towards disgust.

‘What are you doing, Ben?’

‘I’m protecting the armour from scorch marks so we can use it as a disguise.’ 

‘This is a recon mission! We’re not executing people in cold blood.’

‘Poe was about to.’

‘Poe’s blaster was set to stun. Anyway, we’re not going to fire on helpless kneeling captives.’

Ben wants to ask what difference it makes whether their enemies die kneeling or standing. He wants to point out that Poe just guiltily toggled blaster modes as Rey spoke – it’s set to stun _now,_ sure. He wants to lose his temper at the double standards and confusing, arbitrary rules of engagement. Mostly he just wants to keep the hurt under control. He’s trying so hard to help. Why can’t he get anything right?

‘You sure about those fifteen credits?’ he hears Poe mutter to Finn as they push past him to strip the troopers.

Hiding his face seems pointless since Ben’s already been seen and recognised. The voice of long habit suggests he should hang back and snap the frozen stormtroopers’ necks while the others aren’t looking to prevent future problems. The voice of do-as-Rey-says points out this is exactly why he deserves her distrust and why that kiss back on Exegol was so strictly a one-time offer. 

On the upside, at least the helmet means others can’t see the self-recrimination playing out on his face.

* * *

The disguises have another benefit: once Finn has tapped into the local comm network via his helmet display, he can find a path through the academy that avoids other active patrols.

The stolen rank pauldron on his shoulder is the only part of his new costume that doesn’t feel familiar. He used to dream of wearing one of these – but that was before he knew that life held any other sources of pride to look forward to. The closer they get to the archive, the harder his heart beats. He’s about to learn where he comes from. Where he _really_ comes from. His family could be alive out there, living on a quiet planet somewhere in the Outer Rim, thinking him long lost and not knowing that the threads of fate are tightening to draw them back to his side. All that stands between him and them are a few more corridors and a single door that Ben says should open to a standard security clearance.

But when they get there – when Ben keys in his password – the door stays resolutely locked. ‘I don’t understand,’ he says, plaintive, as though the locking mechanism might take pity on him and open anyway. 'My codes got us on world. There’s no reason for the archive to have more up to date security than the whole planetary defence network.’

‘Well, it looks like the archive missed that memo, didn’t it?’ says Poe. The helmet display shows an inbound patrol due to pass their location any minute now. ‘Are you telling me you only know one way to unlock a door? Let me try. Maybe I can slice the access regulator.’

‘If it’s running standalone encryption protocols, that won’t work. You’ll trip an alarm.’

‘What’s your suggestion, then? Maybe whoever catches us will open it for us if we ask nicely.’

‘That’s not a stupid idea,’ says Ben, fingers flexing with the beginnings of another Force trick.

‘It _is_ a stupid idea. You already blew your cover with our uniform donors, and you’ll be lucky if anyone buys that it was just them seeing things. Do you want every last stormtrooper in the galaxy to know you’re alive and mind-tricking?’

‘Stop squabbling, both of you,’ Rey snaps. ‘My lightsaber should be able to cut through the door. That way they’ll know there was a break-in, but at least they won’t know who did it.’

Poe rounds on her. ‘Yeah, you’re right. It could have been any old intruder passing by with a legendary Jedi weapon in hand.’

‘Or it could have been a blowtorch, or a laser cutter, or any number of other tools. Stop looking for problems.’

‘Problems are looking for me, and they’re better at hide-and-seek than I am. This was supposed to be a stealth mission before the Grand Executioner here decided to make a spectacle. Now you want to start waving your lightsaber around? Excuse me if I–’

‘Don’t understand why it’s not working,’ Ben repeats, desolate.

‘–spoil your fun by pointing out that–’

‘Feel free to come up with your own solution instead of just–’

‘–master override built into the kernel of all our systems. My codes should–’

‘–finding fault with everyone else’s–’

‘Guys!’

They all fall silent and stare at Finn. Long practice makes it easy to picture their indignant expressions through the featureless white faceplates. It seems unfair that the peacekeeping role should fall to him, when he’s dealing with more stress and disappointment than all of them put together.

‘Patrol coming,’ he explains, forcing his voice to stay even. Where’s the self-pity coming from? It isn’t his style at all. This mission must be getting in his head more than he realised. ‘Shut up and try to look like you’re standing guard.’

Ben’s the only one who’s even close to getting the posture right. He’s still sloppier than any trained trooper would be. If Finn were actually the owner of this pauldron, he’d be reporting all three of them up the command chain for sure. Still. If this squad are as useless as the last one they met, they might get away with it.

Unless it turns out the troopers have brought someone completely unexpected with them.

Finn stares. Rounding the corner, with an escort formation in tow, comes a figure in a billowing black robe and cowl. His face is hidden behind a heavy black mask, and for a breathless moment Finn’s back on Starkiller Base, clutching his mop like a protective talisman as Kylo Ren sweeps past him on the way to more important business. But Kylo Ren is on Finn’s side now – physically by his side, as well as militarily aligned. This guy is someone else.

This guy is stopping to stare right at them.

‘You,’ he says, vocoded voice directed right at Finn and infused with the unmistakable speech-compelling power of the Force. ‘Why are you loitering? Who gave your squad permission to be near the archive?’

The fight is short, Finn will give his friends that. Rey takes the stormtroopers, and Ben takes his copycat with gusto, and before Finn and Poe get a chance to join in the fun, it’s all over. The troopers are down and the Ren wannabe is learning why you never meet your heroes.

‘Who are you?’ Ben demands. He’s holding his captive at the point of a wicked-looking knife – a new acquisition, snatched from the guy himself during the fight. It looks a little too right in Ben's hand. ‘Talk.’

Nothing.

‘I can _make_ you talk.’

‘Please don’t. I’d rather not watch.’ The words come not from the captive but from Poe. Taking his eyes off the scene, Finn sees how the lines of tension have hardened on Poe’s face, how a little colour has drained from his cheeks. Old wounds. Finn threads his fingers through Poe’s and strokes his palm with his thumb.

Ben gives him a long, expressionless look. ‘I won’t,’ he says finally. Then he turns to look at Rey. ‘Can you…’

‘Here.’ She takes the knife and the prisoner. Poe relaxes a bit. With another pang of quickly squashed self-pity, Finn gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

* * *

They deduce what they can from the frustratingly limited physical cues and their own incidental Force insight. No deliberate mind invasion. Ben’s sure he could do it gently if he tried, but there’s an edge of panic in Poe’s eyes and a look of hard warning in Rey’s. Ben knows what they’re remembering. Thinking about it makes him sick, so he does his best to focus on the problem in front of them.

The newcomer is Force-sensitive too, though minimally, and without much training. Ben can feel the fear rolling off him beneath the layers of bravado and dark side trappings. He’s young. Painfully young, with none of the confidence or conviction of adulthood. He looks like he once saw a picture of Kylo Ren in school and decided that’s who he wanted to be when he grew up.

Ben wonders, briefly, if that’s how _he_ would have looked in his grandfather’s eyes.

But the kid’s age isn’t what matters. His skills may be underdeveloped, but he shows signs of immersion in a dark side lore that should have died with Palpatine. Ben needs to know where he’s been learning it. He already has a few unwelcome suspicions.

‘You’re saying,’ says Poe in a voice of barely passable calm, ‘you knew all along that this place was once Darth Vader’s School for Wayward Inquisitors, and you didn’t feel the need to tell us?’

‘I didn’t think it was relevant.’ The Inquisitorius used to train on Arkanis, true. But that was years before Ben’s time. He and Snoke never found so much as a trace of dark energy when they came looking. ‘The books were burned. All powerful artifacts were removed or destroyed. There are no Sith secrets here.’

‘Does our new Sith friend know that?’ Poe jabs a finger at the unconscious body sprawled at their feet. ‘Do you think he showed up on this planet at random?’

Probably not. ‘Listen, I had no reason to believe he’d be here. This isn’t what you–’

‘What I think? Tell me what I think, Ren. Tell me what great insights you’ve stolen from my head this time.’

Ben hasn’t stolen anything. He doesn’t need a mind probe to know what conclusions Poe is jumping to – and he doesn’t need an outside perspective to know how reasonable they look. This mission has been one mistake after another, a parade of all the reasons why Rey’s friends don’t trust him. At this point, Ben doesn’t blame them. But he can’t afford to let his self-directed bitterness show. ‘I know where the old school used to be. Maybe this kid has dug up something Snoke and I missed, or maybe he’s just an idiot in a costume. Either way, I need to go investigate before I can be certain.’

‘So much for Finn’s records,’ Poe says.

‘We can still get Finn’s records.’ Rey’s intervention fills Ben with relief, but she’s not looking at him. Her focus is all on her friend, who has gone strangely silent behind the cover of Poe’s recriminations. ‘Ben and I will go to the Inquisitorius school. You two stay here and search the archive. When you’ve got what we came for, get back to the _Falcon_ and be ready to collect us if we call for extraction. Something tells me this mission won’t stay covert for much longer.’

She uses her lightsaber to hack the door open. Ben gives Finn and Poe the shelf location for the relevant data. Then they split up, and Ben’s alone with Rey and his own disappointment.

‘You know,’ says Rey, as they creep down a smooth white corridor leading back out to the city and their road to the Inquisitorius school, ‘this isn’t going so badly. It feels a lot like old times, but with less chance of millions dying if we mess up.’

They hope. Ben’s trying not to think about just how easily millions of deaths can be achieved. ‘Rey,’ he says, hearing his own voice echo inside the stormtrooper helmet and wishing he could take it off. ‘I didn’t know–’

‘I know you didn’t.’ She’s gentle but firm. ‘Don’t take Poe personally, okay? He’s just worried about Finn.’

‘ _I’m_ worried about Finn.’ The words feel strange to say aloud, and Ben can only imagine Poe’s face if he heard them. ‘You should have let me come alone. If this all goes to hell, I’ll have gotten his hopes up for nothing.’

Rey stops. They’re in a bad spot, with no cover and little visibility on approaching enemies, but she doesn’t seem worried. Her calm is contagious. Ben will never understand how this woman pulls the strings of his heart with such ease, making it dance this way and that like a puppet in willing thrall. ‘You can’t make people’s decisions for them, Ben. It’s not about how good your intentions are. It’s about trusting them to decide for themselves and helping them through whatever comes from it. That’s how friendship works.’

Ben wants their friendship so much. He wants … he’s accepted that Rey will never see him as more than a friend. The careful physical berth she’s given him since Exegol has made it clear their kiss was an act of kindness on her part, a gift in what at the time looked like being his final moments. He almost died believing his love was reciprocated. Instead, he’s lived on knowing he’ll never touch her like that again. 

There are times he feels like nothing more than the corpse of Kylo Ren, a ghostly echo of the horrors he once inflicted on the galaxy. But she’s taken him in anyway. Finn, Poe, Lando back in New Cloud City – they’ve taken him in, wary but open-hearted, forgiving beyond anything he deserves. He wants so badly to repay their kindness. To make amends for even a tiny fraction of the hurt he’s caused. To earn their trust. Finding Finn’s cadet intake file was supposed to be his first step towards making things right with them. Now, he’s starting to fear it might be his last.

‘We have to keep moving,’ he tells Rey.

She smiles. He can’t see it through her helmet but he can feel it. It’s a sad, wistful, complicated smile. ‘I know, Ben. Let’s go.’

* * *

It’s not, in the end, a particularly exciting twist to the mission. Ben and Rey find a small cult of young Force-sensitives hiding out in the old Inquisitorius school, teaching themselves low level Force tricks from a few stolen records while exaggerating wildly about the lingering presence of Vader in their stronghold. They’ve put up posters of Ben just like the one out in the city. They’re less pleased than might be expected to meet their revered Supreme Leader in person. 

Finn and Poe find what they want in the archive and take it back with them to the _Falcon._ They run into some stormtroopers on the way out and engage in a fierce but not too long-lived firefight. Partly out of respect for Rey but mostly out of desire not to lose the high ground over Ben, Poe keeps his blaster set to stun.

All bread-and-butter stuff for seasoned fighters like them.

Wires get crossed, as often happens in the chaos of blaster fire. While Finn and Poe are flying the _Falcon_ over the old school to collect their friends, Ben and Rey are fighting their way back to the archive where they’ve learned the stolen Sith learning materials came from. One of the cult members apparently dug it all up from a pile of forgotten data. They’re the ones who updated the encryption on the archive door, and they’ve been scouring the whole place ever since for more dangerous lost treasures. 

By now, of course, the alarms have been tripped and all of Arkanis is swarming with stormtroopers. Rey’s commlink gets shot in a skirmish, leaving them unable to call for help until Finn and Poe’s ears pick up rapid blaster fire coming from the academy – at which stage, the chaos is already advanced.

It’s still not the end of the world. But it’s not how anyone planned for their adventure to go.

* * *

‘Poe–’

‘I know, I know!’ Nosediving to avoid a barrage of laser fire, Poe swoops down over the academy courtyard and scans the crowd for any sign of Rey and Ben. All blasters are currently aimed at the _Falcon_ , with no sign of intruder activity on the ground.

This is their third pass.

‘Look on the bright side,’ Poe yells over a loud proximity alert as a missile whirs towards them. ‘The cleanup taskforce will love all this intel we’re collecting about Arkanis’ naval defences.’

The only data Finn cares about is stored in a dusty old drive tucked safely away in his satchel. His heart beats faster every time he thinks about it. The others need to hurry up and evacuate, because he’s not sure how much longer he can resist the temptation to plug it in and lose himself in the truth of his identity. He feels half mad with suspense.

‘Try the front entrance again,’ he yells back. It’s by far the least safe and most dramatic possible escape route, past almost every guard station in the whole facility. Finn knows Rey. He’s starting to know Ben. Neither of them is known for taking the easy way when there’s a perfectly good harder one right there.

Sure enough, the chaos intensifies as Poe brings the ship down near the main gate. Copious smoke billows from what looks suspiciously like an exploded archive room, and stormtroopers pour out in pursuit of two white-armoured fugitives who look much the worse for wear. ‘There they are!’

‘Get the hull hatch open. I’m going in hot.’

‘The hull hatch? How are they going to get up there? We need to lower the boarding ramp and hope it doesn’t–’

‘They’re Jedi! They can do that flippy thing, can’t they?’

‘Oh. Right.’

Poe always thinks fast in a crisis. It’s one of the things Finn admires so much about him. Swallowing his own adrenaline, he rushes back to get the hatch open and grips the ladder rung so he’s braced to catch them when they come sailing in.

It’s a good thing he does. The first body that comes through the hatch does less of a flippy thing and more of a collapsy thing, nearly yanking Finn’s arm out of its socket en route to the floor for a painful crash landing. The weight loading says it’s Ben beneath the mask. Rey follows soon after, much lighter and flippier, already yanking her helmet off as her feet touch the ground. ‘You _idiot_ , Ben. That was completely unnecessary.’

Ben lies spread-eagled on his back and groans.

‘I had the situation under control. There was no need for you to – Finn, get a medkit, he’s hurt – come charging in like that and get yourself pumped full of blaster holes.’

‘It’s only one hole,’ Ben says, breathless through the grille of his mask. ‘Nowhere vital.’

‘I’ll give you _nowhere vital_.’ Rey sounds so angry Finn almost flinches, and it’s not even him she’s yelling at. Dropping down hard on her plastoid kneepads, she removes Ben’s helmet and starts tugging off his chestplate.

‘Ow!’

‘Serves you right.’

‘Would you rather I stood back and let you get shot?’

‘I told you I had it under control.’ Her hands are shaking when she snatches the medkit from Finn. Neither of them seems in any rush to explain what happened, but looking at how she's looking at Ben, Finn suddenly feels good about that fifteen credits he has going with Poe. She’s not angry, not really. She’s scared for him. More scared than she needs to be, since he’s clearly not too hurt to snipe back at her. Love does strange things to people’s rational minds. Finn knows that well enough from experience.

Once they’re safe in hyperspace, Poe comes back from the cockpit with Finn’s satchel in hand. ‘It’s the big moment,’ he says, plugging the drive into the console by the wall. ‘Finn, are you ready?’

He’s not. ‘Do it.’

The drive is old, but the _Falcon_ ’s internal computers are older. The file opens easily. Text only. Scrambled, but easily decrypted by the code Ben punches in with the one arm that isn't limp and dripping blood. Finn reads:

Batch designation.

Height.

Weight.

Blood type.

Heart status.

Lung status.

Bone density.

The file goes on and on, listing every stat that could possibly affect Finn’s physical fitness. There’s no family. No homeworld. Not a single word about where they took him from. Of course there’s not. Why would they care? Millions of children all over the galaxy got funnelled into the stormtrooper program like livestock. Butchers don’t care which cow mothered the calf. They only care that the meat tastes good.

Everyone’s looking at him. The scrutiny is awful. ‘Finn–’ Poe starts.

‘Oh, well,’ he hears himself say in a surprisingly pleasant voice. Threepio’s etiquette lessons must be finally sinking after all the nagging. He doesn’t _want_ to be polite. He wants to hide his face. Or maybe throw something. His insides feel like they’ve been scooped out with a spoon. ‘It was worth a shot, but I guess I’m just meant to be shrouded in mystery. It doesn’t matter. Like I said from the start, I’ve got my family right–’

‘This isn’t a dead end,’ says Ben. He looks pained, and Finn knows it’s not just because of the blaster wound. He tried. It’s not his fault, not really. But Finn can’t bring himself to make eye contact.

‘Ben,’ he says as gently as he can, ‘I didn’t need to come to Arkanis to learn my blood type. There’s nothing in this file I didn’t already know.’

‘You didn’t know which officer completed your intake.’ Ben jabs the screen, leaving a slightly bloody fingerprint beside the admin data block. ‘Here. Now we have a name and date. If we can just find out where that officer was deployed that day, we’ll have your homeworld.’

It sounds a lot like the start of another wild goose chase. Before Finn can answer, Poe puts a hand on his shoulder and says, ‘How would we find that out?’ He doesn’t sound as skeptical as Finn expected him to. He sounds … thoughtful. Interested.

Optimistic.

‘Every deployment was recorded somewhere. Arkanis isn’t the only archive that survived the First Order’s fall – there are other databases I can check. And if that fails, we can visit words that were annexed around that time and ask the locals to share their recollections. Something will turn up.’ A gentle tug in the Force urges Finn to lift his head. He does, and meets a pair of earnest, determined dark eyes boring into his. ‘I spent years tracking Luke Skywalker before I found him. I can do this, Finn. It just may take a little longer than we hoped.’

‘That’s true,’ Poe says flatly. ‘I do seem to remember a little something about you finding Luke Skywalker in the end.’ He squeezes Finn’s shoulder, and the warmth of his hand makes the numbness ebb away. ‘What do you say, Finn? Should we give our bloodhound another sniff of the rag?’

‘Poe,’ Rey says warningly.

‘Why shouldn’t I call him a bloodhound? He’s bleeding all over the place. Here.’ Releasing Finn, Poe takes Ben’s arm – Ben stiffens – and starts tightening the bandage. It’s the closest Finn has ever seen the two of them stand. ‘Let’s get you triaged properly and then we can talk strategy. If your other archives are as well guarded as Arkanis, we may want to bring some backup. Rey, you want to come here and do that healing thing?’

Instead of answering right away, Rey looks at Finn and their eyes meet for a long moment. _Don’t give up now,_ her gaze seems to say. _The answers are out there. Let us help you._ Then, aloud, she says: ‘No, I don’t. If Ben wants to dive in front of blaster bolts for no good reason, he can live with the consequences.’

Ben’s wounds must be shallow. Rey is something when she loses her temper, but she’d never leave anyone in serious straits. Especially not the guy Finn’s now about ninety percent sure she’s head over heels for.

If they’re really going to go on this search, then the other ten percent should follow soon. It sounds like the four of them will be spending a lot more time together.

* * *

‘You’re still angry,’ Ben says later when he finds Rey in her bunk at the back of the _Falcon._

He doesn’t buy, somehow, that she’s only angry about him jumping in front of that blaster for her. She’s proud in battle, but not stupid – there were too many shots to block all at once, and the bolt that did such a good job mangling the (sore, but non-fatal) flesh of his upper arm would otherwise have hit her clean in the head. He wasn’t acting recklessly or treating her as a damsel to be saved, like she accused between gasps as they sprinted for the archive exit. He didn’t even get hurt badly enough to impede their getaway.

No. What she’s really angry about is the failed mission, and she has good reason to be. Ben has let Finn down. He’s put all of them in danger. Instead of celebrating the discovery of Finn’s family, they’ve spent the day arguing about battle tactics and fighting the long shadow of Ben’s past mistakes.

‘I’m not angry.’ She’s downcast, staring at her own hands in her lap, still wearing her rumpled clothes that smell of sweat and smoke from the archive fire. ‘I’m just … tired. Frustrated.’ She swallows. ‘I have no idea how to do this.’

‘I do. I know my track record isn’t good, but I swear, Rey, I can make this right with Finn. I just need more time to research before I go charging off on any more group adventures.’

Rey lifts her head to stare at him. ‘That’s not what I mean.’

‘What do you mean, then?’

‘What do you mean, what do I mean?’

The pause is long and awkward. It’s times like these Ben wishes he could reach out and touch her mind the way he used to so easily. But he’s promised to stop using his powers on a whim, and besides, he’s sure it would overstep the boundaries she’s put up around herself since Exegol.

After the recent spate of disasters, he doesn’t have a huge amount of faith left in his own judgement. Thankfully, Rey speaks again before he has to. ‘I’ve been patient, okay? You were such a mess when we got back from Exegol. Always pushing me away, hiding in your room, refusing to talk to anyone about anything. I thought you just needed time to sort yourself out. But fighting side by side with you today … I’d almost forgotten what I was missing. I’ve given you enough time; you can do better. We’re _good_ together, Ben. Aren’t we?’

They are. More than anything, more than the softness of her lips or the heat of her breath or the beautiful weight of her body in his arms, Ben misses that feeling of oneness when they swung into action together. He misses knowing her mind. Misses feeling whole by her side.

‘I don’t need you jumping in front of bullets for me. I need you to be _around._ To be involved. To believe we all want you to succeed and stop acting like we’re going to change our minds and turn on you at any second.’

‘If I hadn’t jumped in front of that blaster,’ Ben protests, ‘you’d be dead. And then you wouldn’t need anything from me.’

‘That’s not the point! Ugh.’ Rey flicks stray hair out of her eyes, and despite everything, that small teenage part of Ben’s brain whispers how nice it would feel to reach out and stroke it back for her. ‘Why are you like this?’

A question for the ages. ‘I’ve been trying to stay out of your way,’ Ben says. ‘I…’ Might as well say it. ‘I realise what I want from you is a lot more than you’re willing to give. I don’t ever want you to think I’m trying to change that by force or … or push boundaries, or anything. You owe me nothing. Your friends owe me nothing. I’m grateful for the second chance you’ve given me, and instead of imposing even further, I’ve been trying to find ways I can make up for…’

His feelings catch in his throat. He can’t say any more. He’s probably already said far too much.

Another long silence follows.

‘You,’ says Rey at last, ‘are an unreasonably stupid man. What in the whole wide galaxy made you think that … no. You know what, I’m not having this argument.’

Rising up off the bunk, Rey grabs his shoulders – his injured arm screams in protest – and kisses him.

The arm shuts up.

The whole world shuts up.

Rey kisses him, and Ben’s so shocked, it takes a few moments for his nerves to make sense of the sensation. Then comes a flood of feeling so intense it just about overwhelms him. He can’t put words to it, or process exactly what any of this means. The only thing his body and soul are capable of is kissing her back.

‘I’ve wasted all this time,’ Rey says when they break apart (when _she_ breaks apart, gently resisting his efforts to cling to her like the world’s most violently trembling limpet), ‘giving you the space I thought you wanted to figure yourself out.’ She laughs. Each peal is music played deep in Ben’s heart. ‘I guess I forgot to factor in that you’re an emotionally stunted idiot. _More than I’m willing to give,_ what the hell? Why did you think I kissed you that time?’

‘I…’ Ben can’t even be indignant at the barrage of insults. His tingling lips won’t form the right words. ‘I thought you were just saying thank you.’

Rey laughs again. It’s full of exasperation and fondness. ‘Okay. I’m glad we’ve cleared that up. Thank you for taking that bullet for me today, Ben.’

She kisses him again.

His heart should explode from how full it feels. Somehow, she keeps kissing him, and it keeps finding room to swell and swell.

(It’s not the only part of him that’s swelling, his inner teenager makes sure to point out. But then Rey pushes him back onto the bunk and straddles his lap, and with the heat of her long pent-up desire bearing down on him, Ben finds it’s finally time to grow up.)

* * *

It’s so hard being patient. Like Ben said, it’s going to take time – but it’s not Ben’s family who are waiting out there somewhere. Keeping his sense of urgency in check takes all of Finn’s effort. He survived this long not knowing. A little longer won’t kill him. It won’t.

They’re back in New Cloud City while they scour old First Order holonet channels for all the deployment records they can get their hands on. Four people search faster than one on his own. But still, it’s a lot of data, and Finn spends most of his research time feeling bleary-eyed and downcast.

‘Don’t be like that,’ Poe says, when Finn voices a little of his ever-mounting pessimism. ‘The truth’s out there, and sooner or later we’re going to find it. Just think, Finn: you could still have living relatives. Palpatine survived. There’s no reason Tarkin couldn’t have, too.’

‘You’re still on that Tarkin theory?’

‘I’m still on that Tarkin theory. Wanna put money on it?’

‘You haven’t paid me for our last bet.’

‘That’s because you haven’t won.’

‘What’s it going to take for you? They’ve been joined at the hip since Arkanis. We’ve literally seen them holding hands.’

‘We sometimes hold hands.’ Finn raises a brow at him. ‘Well, obviously, _we_ hold hands a lot. But I mean we sometimes hold hands with Rey as well. That doesn’t make it a thing.’

Finn sighs. ‘It’s a thing, Poe. You owe me fifteen credits.’

‘You want them, you have to get them yourself. They’re in my front pocket.’

A short tousle and a long stretch of heavy breathing later, they’re recovering together on the bed while Poe strokes soft patterns up and down Finn’s back. ‘I mean it, though,’ he murmurs in Finn’s ear. ‘We’re going to find the answers eventually. I’ll be there when we do. I don’t care if it’s Tarkin or anyone else – I’ll be there with you when you first step foot back on your homeworld. I’ll be there when you meet your family.’ He shrugs; the mattress shifts. ‘I guess Rey and Ben can come too, since they’ll have helped us get there.’

Maybe it’s the endorphins talking, but with Poe’s arms around him, Finn really believes it’s possible.

* * *

‘Come with us,’ they all urge Ben after one intensive research session. Rey and Finn and even Poe, a little uncomfortable but not insincere. ‘It’s a great way to unwind.’

‘And,’ Finn adds gravely, ‘it shows our appreciation for Lando’s hospitality.’

Turns out Rey doesn’t spa-bathe naked after all. That’s fine. Immersed up to his chest at the deep end, pleasantly dizzy from heat and steam, Ben watches her splash about in front of the bubble jets. He watches Finn drop crumbs in the water from a Ryshcate pastry squirrelled away at breakfast. He watches Poe shift in and out of the water, dipping in for a minute or two then stretching to cool off on a poolside rock ledge.

He still doesn’t have the answers he promised them. They let him in anyway. Following Rey’s lead as best he can, Ben tries not to overthink it – _just enjoy the moment._

_Believe we all want you to succeed._

They do, Ben thinks. And not just because they stand to benefit from his success.

The warmth isn’t just from the water and the bubbling feeling isn’t just from the jets. Ben sinks deeper into the spa. He’s not thinking about all the work he has left to do. He’s not dwelling on past mistakes. He listens to the woman he loves and his two new friends chat away happily like his presence is no threat to them at all. For a long mineral-soaked while, Ben lets go of all his stresses and just lets himself feel happy.


End file.
